


go to the ends of the earth for you (to make you feel my love)

by lettersfromnowhere



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Cuddling, F/M, Pregnancy, a 5+1 that died young, cavity-inducing fluff, fire flakes go with everything, steambabies...kinda?, tried to get deep but wasn't very good at it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:35:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24568600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettersfromnowhere/pseuds/lettersfromnowhere
Summary: In which Katara is the last person who should ever be put on bed rest, and Zuko is the last person who's ever going to stop trying to assuage her bed rest-induced misery.(Or: Zuko attempts to make Katara's last month of pregnancy a little more bearable.)
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 289





	go to the ends of the earth for you (to make you feel my love)

**Author's Note:**

> It was cloudy today, which got me thinking about rain, and thus rainy day fluff, and I'm kind of obsessed with cuddling (social distancing has made me feel very touch starved...), and this kinda happened.
> 
> So here ya go. My first attempt at pregnancy fluff. It's kind of a mess, but I love it nonetheless.

**I. Fire and Ice**

"I just can't believe they'd put me on _bed rest!"_

Sitting on their bed, clutching a pillow tight to her swollen abdomen and making her displeasure known without a solitary thought for who learns of her doctor's orders in this manner, Katara is in a very dangerous state of limbo between "sobbing" and "ready to go on a murder spree." And really, this shouldn't be as terrifying to Zuko as it is: he's seen her cry a thousand times, and lose her temper at least ten times that amount. But at none of those times, even the ones wherein actual lives were at stake, did Katara reach anything near this fever-pitched intensity. 

"I know it's going to be hard," he tries to console her, sitting on the edge of the bed - not quite touching her, but close enough. "But you have to rest. The doctor wouldn't have ordered you to stay in bed if there weren't a good reason. "

"Like that makes it any better!" Katara seethes. "I can't leave my chambers for _weeks,_ and I have so much I need to be doing, and I'm _hungry,_ but _no,_ I can't even go to the kitchens-" 

_I can do that!_ Zuko is almost comically eager to jump to her assistance upon hearing that there is, miraculously, something his wife wants that he can actually provide. "I'll go get you something. Whatever you want!" he offers. 

That, at least, gets her to focus on something other than her unbridled rage at her circumstances for a moment. "The usual. Ice cream," she requests. "With fire flakes." 

(It's been seven months; needless to say, Zuko knows better than to question this by now.)

"It'll take a while for the kitchens to make it," Zuko replies. "It's summer, and it won't keep, so they have to make it fresh. But I'm sure they'd be thrilled to-" 

Katara crosses her arms over her chest. "Never mind, then. Just bring me regular cream," she huffs. 

Zuko wonders why she's changed her mind - usually she's more single-minded than this when she's having a craving - but he doesn't mention it. "Okay, and do you still want the fire flakes?" 

That gets a genuine smile from Katara. "And a spoon," she says. "You'll see." 

("Don't ask" is quickly becoming Zuko's motto.)

Normally, the servants constantly buzzing around Katara would swiftly insist that they be the ones to make the trip to the kitchens for whatever was needed, but they've learned over the past few months not to get between the Firelord and whatever Katara has asked for, so as he sweeps down the hall towards the kitchen, no one he passes says much. 

It's rather unheard-of, a Firelord bringing his day to a halt to assist his wife, but it is common knowledge by now that Zuko takes the responsibility of catering to the Firelady's every whim quite personally. Katara's first pregnancy hasn't been an easy one, and she's been a little less active lately even before being ordered to rest; they're not seeing as much of each other as they might otherwise, and so Zuko rarely lets an opportunity to attend to her pass him by. It's the least he can do, and being able to ease her suffering - even in small ways - is a comfort.

(And if the servants gossip, well...there are worse things to be known for than doting excessively on one's wife.) 

When Zuko finally returns to their chambers with a bowl of fire flakes, a spoon, and a pitcher of fresh cream that took several minutes of explaining to the head cook to procure, he can't help but wonder what she plans to do with it. "I have to say, this is a new one," he comments as he hands them to Katara. "What do-"

"Observe." Katara takes the pitcher in both hands and bends the water in the cream until frost creeps up its sides. It's frozen solid in seconds. "See? Ice cream!"

He smiles before he realizes what exactly it is she plans to eat; his face twists in confusion when it hits him that she fully intends to eat a pitcher of frozen cream with fire flakes. "I don't think that's how-"

Katara glares at him and digs her spoon into the concoction. "Does it look like I care?" she fumbles with the spoon, failing to even make a chink in the surface of the cream. Evidently she'd underestimated her own strength when she froze it. "I'm gonna eat this or die trying!" 

Zuko is still baffled as to why she'd ever _want_ to eat such a dish, but nevertheless, he warms the dish for a moment to soften it enough to eat. Katara smiles gratefully and digs in-

Only to gag the moment she tastes her creation. 

"Ugh, I _really_ should've waited for the ice cream," she spits. "That...is not what I wanted." 

Zuko says nothing. Anything he _could_ say would probably result in a spoon being thrown at him. 

"What?" Katara responds to his amused expression. Then she smirks. "You know what? I'm not giving you the pleasure of saying you told me." She takes another huge spoonful of half-frozen cream and fire flakes, forcing it down her throat. 

"Are you sure you're not going to get sick if you eat that?" Zuko asks. Eating strange foods is par for the course, but he's a tad worried that this one crosses the line. "Maybe you shouldn't..." 

Glaring daggers at him, Katara devours every last bite. 

**II. Death by Taxes**

"I can't imagine why you'd _want_ to read these, but here you are." Zuko sets a box of scrolls - most of them pertinent to the week's work (with a few fictional ones thrown in lest she need to rest her brain), and _all_ of them horribly dull - next to Katara, who's nestled under the covers with the heavy brocade comforter pulled up to her chin. It's a rare chilly day, and though Zuko's idea of cold is vastly milder than Katara's, she still seems to relish the opportunity to take advantage of the weather. She sits up against the pillows to examine the scrolls and shoots him a tired but sincere smile. 

"I can't slack off," she replies, unrolling a particularly irksome one detailing a conflict over fishing rights on the northern coast. Zuko wants to groan at the mere sight of the thing, which had necessitated several completely unproductive meetings earlier in the week. "I might have valuable insight." 

"That you do," he says, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. "Those should keep you busy for a while, if they don't put you to sleep first. I know I wouldn't be able to keep my eyes open if I were reading those in bed." 

That seems to give Katara an idea. "Do you have anything pressing to attend to right now?" 

"Do I ever _not_ have something-" 

"I'll take that as a no." Katara pats the comforter. "You should stay awhile." 

"I would love to, but-" 

"Read with me," Katara requests. "It's still work. Tell whoever you were supposed to meet that you were consulting with the Firelady on political matters." A hopeful smile plays at her lips, the kind she knows very well that Zuko cannot _possibly_ resist. 

"Okay," he sighs, discarding the heavier outer layers of his robes and taking a seat next to Katara. She cuddles in close, nudging him with a second scroll as she positions herself under his arm. "So what do we have here?" 

Katara reads a few lines of the scroll, which outlined changes to a tax reform proposal that had been bounced around for months already, and sighs. It was all she heard about for months before her political duties took a backseat to bedrest, and though there are no doubt changes to the proposal that she has yet to learn of, she's thoroughly sick of it. "Taxes. Great," she huffs. 

"Hey, you're the one who didn't want to shirk your duty," Zuko reminds her, playfully squeezing her arm. "One of my advisors has been pushing for a tariff on imported produce this week. Otherwise, hasn't changed much." 

"Well, can you read me the section that goes over the proposed changes?" Katara asks, skimming the scroll and not finding it. "I might have some suggestions."

"You want _me_ to read it?" Zuko asks, thoroughly confused. "To you? Out loud?" 

Katara nods, leaning her head against his shoulder. "You were right about one thing - I'd fall asleep if I tried to read them." She pauses for a moment, taking his hand and setting it against her stomach. "Besides, I think our baby should get to know what her father's voice sounds like, hm?" 

His heart swells a little at that. It still doesn't feel real sometimes. They're going to be _parents -_ there's going to be a squishy potato human in this world who's half of him and half of her and he's _terrified,_ but also exhilarated, and he absently wonders if the baby can tell. "Of course," he says gently, leaning over to kiss Katara's forehead. "Although there are better ways to do that than reading tax law." 

"Yeah, but you still need to be working." Katara grins deviously, swatting his arm with the fishing-rights scroll. "It's called multitasking." 

**III. Insomnia**

Rain beats against the windowpanes the third night of Katara's bed rest. Its steady rhythm is calming, but Katara still can't sleep, and it's driving her half-mad. She cannot imagine a more comforting scenario than this, lying tucked into a warm bed with rain pattering all around and her husband resting his head against her chest, their legs intertwined, and yet she still can't seem to drift off. 

"Zuko?" she mumbles, wondering if he's still awake, trying and failing to sleep like she is. 

"Mm?" he mutters. 

"Sorry, did I wake you?" she asks. "I can't sleep."

"No, no, you didn't. I can't sleep either," he admits, shifting to rest against the pillows so he can look at her. "Is something bothering you?"

"No, I don't think so," Katara replies. "I just...can't. You?" 

"More of the usual," Zuko sighs. "Worrying that I'm going to mess this up." 

"You know what I'm going to say to that," Katara says, reaching over to pull him closer. Zuko gratefully settles in against her side, leaning into her touch as she runs her fingers through his hair. They've had this conversation a thousand times - Zuko wondering if he'll ever be able to overcome his past when all he knows of fatherhood is so wrong, Katara reminding him that she's got reason enough of her own to worry about whether she'll be as good a mother to her own child as she has been to nearly everyone she's ever known. It's become a familiar cycle: their responses are always the same, their fears never quieted.

It's going to take more than platitudes to overcome years of suffering, and they've stopped trying. All they can do now is comfort each other and wait.

"I do," Zuko replies. "I just wish I could be as convinced as you are." 

"I don't think either of us will ever be confident that we're doing it right," Katara admits. "There's too much working against that."

"You always get so philosophical late at night," Zuko comments. "You're right, of course." 

"But...I've realized that that's okay," Katara continues. "I mean, think about it. We were hurt by absence, not mistakes." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Well, all parents make mistakes, obviously. But...regular mistakes won't leave a kid traumatized." She can't meet his eyes. "That only happens when the parents are straight-up gone, or...so unloving that they might as well be. And that's never gonna be us." 

"Of course not." He sets his hand against her abdomen as if to prove it. 

"Think about it, Zuko," Katara says, setting her hand atop his. "We already love our baby. So as long as we don't die-" 

"Don't joke about that, darling, _please-"_

"He or she is already better off than we were." She meets his eyes now, smiling softly. "I know we're gonna mess up. Probably every single day. But we're always going to be _there."_

"But not as much as I wish we could be," Zuko pointed out. "We can't possibly. Not unless we figure out how to be in two places at once."

"Probably not." Katara's expression grew a little more hesitant. "But...if we make sure our kids know how much we love them...that's all we can do, Zuko. And we have to trust that it's going to be enough."

"Mm-hm." 

"Oh, come on, I give a heartfelt speech about parenthood and I get 'mm-hm'?" Katara sat bolt upright, crossing her arms. "Impossible. You are _impossible."_

"What, would you prefer this?" Zuko cupped her chin and leaned in to kiss her, quick and almost chaste, with a rakish smile. Katara, never one to be satisfied with a half-effort, pulled him back in for another, this one longer and sweeter and no less fiery than she could manage. 

"That would be acceptable," she teased. "Except that _someone_ needs to sleep before a seven-o'clock meeting with the Minister of Finance tomorrow about fruit tariffs." 

Zuko glared at her, but once they were resting again, Katara's graceful hands gently stroking his hair until she drifted off, they were asleep in minutes. 

After all, there was nothing they'd face that couldn't wait until tomorrow. 

**Author's Note:**

> Last lines are hard.


End file.
